Dream A Little Bigger, Darling
by diceandpokerchips
Summary: Written for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Rated M for language. Arthur/Eames
1. Holding Hands

**Written for the 30 Day OTP Challenge**

**Day One: Holding Hands**

* * *

Eames, as always, was watching Arthur. Peering over the top of his briefing notes, he kept his eyes fixed on the point man. This was Eames' favourite time to watch Arthur. Not that every time wasn't his favourite time. But particularly when Arthur was talking to the team, running through the plan with them for the first time.

They always brainstormed together, came up with a general plan as a team, but afterwards Arthur took it away, fine-tuned it, came up with alternate routes, back-up plans, meeting points. That was Eames' other favourite time to watch Arthur, when he was scribbling away, hunched over his moleskin, or typing on his top-secret laptop, drawing architecture plans. Eames enjoyed the way his hands clutched the pen, the way his fingers danced over the keyboard. He watched Arthur's hands for hours, captivated by their elegance.

But there was a certain precise method in the way Arthur lectured. The way he gestured when he was speaking, his hands always drawing Eames' eyes. Just like now. Eames was very subtle when he was watching Arthur, but this time he must have been careless.

"Eames, is there something wrong with my hands?" Arthur sighed, exasperatedly, glancing down at them.

Eames flinched slightly, realising he'd been caught. All eyes turned to stare at him, among them was Cobb's accusing glare and Ariadne's wide-eyed surprise.

"No." He smiled, awkwardly. "Not at all. Please continue."

Arthur flushed slightly, barely noticeable unless you were looking, but of course, Eames was.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "So as I was saying. There'll need to be a bridge here." He gestured on the map. Even at top speed it shouldn't take less than twenty minutes to get there, and it worked well for us during the inception."

Eames stared at the map, trying not to let his gaze slide over to Arthur. He needed to concentrate. Arthur would probably shoot him if he interrupted again. This was a very well-paid job, it needed to run smoothly. And he needed to stop chasing after the point man anyway. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested.

Eames paused at that. Arthur had made it clear he wasn't interested in a casual fling. Perhaps there was still a chance that Arthur was interested in something more. Heaven knows, Eames was. For years he'd kept his feelings for Arthur well hidden, concealed by his naturally flirty nature. But risking a glance at Arthur, he saw the still-flushed cheeks from his earlier attention and took the plunge.

"Arthur, have dinner with me tonight." He said suddenly.

Arthur paused. "Okay." He said, before returning to his previous sentence, the tips of his ears reddening.

Eames blinked. "Okay?" He repeated, amazed, interrupting the point man a second time.

Arthur sighed, irritably. "Yes, Mr Eames, I'll have dinner with you tonight, on the condition that you let me get through the rest of this presentation without further interruption." He replied, pointedly, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

Eames sat back instantly, gesturing for Arthur to proceed. He dutifully gave the point man his full attention for the rest of the presentation, but he was well aware of the eyes on him, particularly Cobb's. Dom Cobb had never been Eames' number one fan; he knew and accepted that Eames was the best thief and forger in the business, but he'd never trusted Eames as a person.

To be fair, Eames reflected as they packed up for the day, in any other respect Cobb would be right. Prior to the inception, Eames would have had no issue with betraying his team if it suited him. The exception had been if the team contained Arthur.

Of course, now things were different. Eames had settled down somewhat, and the friendship he had with the majority of the team meant more to him than money. So whatever Cobb thought of him, he was wrong.

Bypassing the curious, astonished looks of Ariadne, Yusuf and Cobb, the forger approached Arthur hesitantly, helping him carry the flipchart to one side.

"So where do you want to go for dinner?" Eames asked, uncertainly. "What time should I pick you up?"

Arthur blinked at him. "I thought we'd go straight from here. Unless there's a reason you needed to stop back at the hotel?"

Eames looked down at his loud orange shirt and shrugged. "I thought I'd changed my shirt first." He mumbled. "I guessed you'd want to go somewhere with a dress code."

Arthur shook his head. "Even if I did, you're fine as you are. I agreed to go to dinner with you, not some scrubbed up version of you, playing a role." He said, softly.

Eames felt a crooked grin light up his face of its own accord. Arthur smiled back at him, and tentatively offered his hand. Barely able to breath, Eames took it, feeling the soft skin of Arthur's palms against his own, warmer than he imagined. Arthur's long fingers entwined with his own.

"Dinner?" He asked.

"Lead the way, darling." Eames grinned.

Their hands still joined, Arthur and Eames left the warehouse, completely ignoring the inquisitive looks of the rest of the team. Eames strolled confidently next to Arthur. Focusing on the sensation of Arthur's slim, elegant hand in his own, the forger knew he would never be able to let Arthur go now.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Day Two: Cuddling Somewhere**

**Contains scenes of graphic violence**

* * *

Eames took a swig of his drink, morosely. He felt let down, disappointed. Somewhere on the grapevine, he'd caught wind of a nearby job that had an amazing pay off. A little digging, and he found out that it was for an extractor named Faydon, who Eames had worked with once or twice. A little more digging found that Arthur was on the team.

Thoroughly intrigued, Eames called Faydon, and asked to be in on the job. He told himself that it wasn't mostly because Arthur was involved.

"Ah, no can do, Eames." Faydon said, apologetically. "Arthur's in charge of bringing in the forger. He left a few days ago to hire him. Said he was the best person for the job and wouldn't hear of anyone else being involved."

Eames blinked, feeling like he'd been slapped in the face. "Who is it?"

"He said his name was Clint." Faydon told him. "I suggested he ask you, but he wouldn't have it. I thought you two were friends anyway?"

"So did I." Eames said softly, ending the call.

Less than an hour later, he found himself in a bar, ordering a double whisky. He took a big gulp, forcing all thoughts of Arthur out of his head.

"Same again, mate." He said to the bartender, downing the rest of the drink in one.

"Celebrating, Mr Eames?" Eames stiffened, recognising the voice. "You're a very difficult man to find."

Eames purposely didn't look at him. "Maybe you should consider that I don't want to be found then, _Arthur_."

Arthur paused, his smile fading. "You've heard."

"Heard what, Arthur? That my _friend_ decided someone was more qualified for a job than I am?" He sneered. Downing his drink, he threw some bills down on the bar. "If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

Arthur leaned against the bar, watching Eames leave, angrily. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?" He called after him.

"Not particularly." Eames called back, without breaking his stride. Sighing, Arthur followed him into the street.

"Eames, at least let me explain." He pleaded, noting that Eames at least slowed. "I thought we were friends, do you think I would cut you out of a job, even think about hiring another forger without a good reason?"

Eames stopped, but he still didn't look convinced. They were drawing curious looks from the people around them, so Arthur grabbed Eames' shoulder, and pulled him further down the street, into an alley.

"I came here to explain." He told Eames. "I didn't have to, but I came anyway. At least hear me out."

The forger sighed, but at last he nodded, folding his arms. Arthur relaxed a little. He knew Eames would still be angry after his explanation, but hopefully would be somewhat appeased.

"What do you know about the job?" Arthur asked.

Eames shrugged. "Not much. Team consists of you, Faydon and Clint. Pay off pretty huge, rivals Saito's generosity or thereabouts."

"Unusually huge, wouldn't you say?" Arthur pointed out, raising his eyebrow.

"Another inception?" Eames asked, frowning. "So why wouldn't you want me on board, surely I'm more qualified…"

"Not an inception. An extraction, from a heavily militarised mark named Cole. A serial killer, whose projections have adopted his … penchant for torture."

Eames shook his head, trying to clear it. "I don't understand, why don't you want me on the job?"

Arthur met his eyes. "I can't watch his projection torture you." He admitted. "Your involvement in the job was already a given; but there are limitations. You come in, you do so as the dreamer for the first layer, as Faydon's back-up. Clint and I go down to the second, and you stay put. You're a distraction I can't afford." Arthur added, softly.

Everything fell into place. "Oh." Eames realised. "Darling, I…"

"It's not important." Arthur interrupted. "I need to be back by morning, the extraction goes ahead tomorrow night. Are you in or out?"

Eames just looked at him, letting Arthur know exactly how ridiculous that question was. Nodding once, Arthur gestured for Eames to follow him. They exited the alley, and headed in the direction of the airport. The forger no longer felt any anger about Arthur cutting him out of the job. He understood why it was necessary. Feelings could be the ultimate distraction. The Cobb's were a prime example of why it was never a good idea to have a loved one involved where dreamsharing was concerned.

In Minsk the next day, Eames was made fully aware of the plan, and he didn't like it one little bit.

"So what you're telling me is, Arthur intends to hold off an army of projections alone while Clint forges the mark's lover?" Eames repeated, disbelievingly. "And you intend to have any form of success?"

Arthur shook his head. "We don't have a choice, this is our best bet. I can hold the projections off just long enough for Clint to get what he needs."

He was hiding something, that much Eames knew. But he couldn't for the life of him work out what it was. Eames wasn't fooled for an instant, but he trusted Arthur to know what he was doing, and reluctantly agreed.

Faydon hooked them up to the PASIV. "You know where we're meeting?" He asked Eames, who nodded once. He knew the plan.

They awoke to find themselves immediately under siege. Cole's subconscious was extremely well-trained. Eames dropped to his knees, his Sig Sauer in his hand instantly, firing at anything that moved, after taking a moment to knock Cole out cold. He backed up, covering Arthur and Clint while Faydon got them a car. It took less than a minute for them to pull away, tyres screeching.

Eames climbed through the back to help Arthur, Clint and Cole hook up the PASIV. He left Arthur till last, sliding the needle into his hand with a tenderness that was rare in the forger.

"Be careful." He told Arthur curtly, depressing the infusion trigger before the point man could reply. Faydon raced the car through the carefully constructed maze, leaving Cole's projections in his dust. Eames looked around, uneasily.

"This is almost too easy." He said, warily. "It's like he wants them to go under."

Faydon nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. "I agree. But I also know that Arthur would skin me alive if I let you go down after him. We wait."

Eames agreed. Arthur had asked him to stay, so he would stay, but he kept an eye on the PASIV. Four minutes and twenty-three seconds later, Clint awoke, alone, gasping and screaming.

"What the fuck happened? Where's Arthur?" Faydon called back. Clint panted, a layer of sweat on his forehead.

"It's not working, he's not fooled." He gasped, his voice hoarse for the first few syllables, before returning to normal. Eames noticed immediately. Whatever had happened down there had left Clint screaming.

Faydon swerved around the corner, narrowly missing a row of spikes that would have burst their tyres and left them helpless. "They're coming after us, you've got to go back under."

"I can't." Clint shook his head, desperately. "You didn't see it down there, I can't."

Eames' head snapped up. Faydon met his eyes in the rear-view mirror and sighed, nodding once.

"No!" Clint grabbed Eames' arm. "Trust me, you do not want to go down there. Arthur…"

"Arthur's exactly why I _am_ going down there." Eames said determinedly, stabbing the needle into his hand. "See if you can buy us more time. I'll send Cole up when it's done."

He awoke instantly, in the skin of Cole's lover, the only person on earth he actually cared about.

"Why are you doing this, Cole? Why are you hurting people?" He asked, softly. "Why did you hurt that girl?"

He turned to face Cole, whose face paled at the sight of her. "Marie? I know your voice. This isn't another trick, is it? Another person wearing your skin, with your eyes, your scent." He moved closer, touching the soft skin of her neck.

"It's me, Cole. Why did you hurt that girl? She has a family, just like we could have had."

Cole began to sob. "I didn't want to hurt her, I didn't, but I just couldn't stop. Please, Marie, don't leave me."

"Her family are looking for her." Eames coaxed him, letting a tear or two fall. "How can I forgive you, how can I bring you peace when that's the one thing they will never have?"

"Please, please, forgive me, my love. I'll tell you everything, I'll tell you where I buried her. I just need to know that you'll forgive me afterwards." Cole dropped to his knees, begging.

Eames bit back the revulsion he felt and laid a manicured hand on his shoulder. "Always, Cole."

"I buried her in the field behind her house, next to the goalpost. Marie, I'm so sorry. Marie, what are you doing?"

The Sig materialised in Eames' hand and he fired a bullet, right between the murderer's eyes. Once he was sure Cole was dead, and had awakened above, Eames dropped the forgery and began his frantic search for Arthur.

"Arthur? Arthur, if you can hear me, where are you?"

A muffled bang came from the floor below. Eames dashed down the stairs, busting in to what appeared to be a cellar. A pool of blood covered the floor, surrounding a dark shape.

"Arthur!" Eames gasped, throwing himself at the body. He turned Arthur over, carefully, cradling the point man in his arms, and sobbed in horror. Where Arthur's eyes had been, there were just two dark, bloody holes. Deep cuts and lacerations covered the visible areas on Arthur's body, and both his legs were broken. Despite this, Eames could hear pained, shallow breaths. Arthur was still alive.

"Darling, Arthur, it's me. Can you talk?"

"Eames?" Arthur struggled slowly. "Eames?"

Eames almost sobbed with relief. "That's right, darling. It's me. I'm going to get you out of here. I promise. Darling, I'll help take the pain away."

He raised the gun, his hand shaking, and pressed it gently to Arthur's forehead. Closing his eyes, Eames' felt tears run down his cheeks as he pulled the trigger. He put the barrel to his own head, sticky with Arthur's blood, and pulled the trigger.

As soon as he awoke in the first level, he shot himself again, needing to feel the smooth, familiar weight of his totem to prove that this was reality. To see Arthur whole, unharmed. He ripped the PASIV out of his arm, feeling his own blood trickle down his fingers as he kept his eyes fixed on Arthur's sleeping form.

A few moments later, the rest of the team awoke, gasping, Arthur included. Immediately, Eames let loose a punch, knocking Arthur backwards off his chair.

"You intended to do that the whole time, didn't you? You selfish, bloody _bastard_! How could you let his projections torture you? They cut out your eyes!"

Arthur stood up, calmly, ignoring the blow. "You were never meant to see it." He admitted. "That's why I didn't want you on the job in the first place."

"I only went down because Clint couldn't bear to, I assume they started in on you before he found Cole." Eames snapped, feeling himself shaking. "How could you do that? Do you have any idea what it did to me, to see you like that?"

He felt a swooping sensation of falling, and didn't realise his legs had given away until his knees hit the floor. Arthur moved immediately, dropping to the floor next to him. Eames, ashamed of the tears that were pricking his eyes, looked away.

"I'm sorry, Eames." Arthur murmured in anguish. "I'm so sorry."

Eames let the tears fall and pulled Arthur into a hug, tightening his arms around the point man. "I can't… don't _ever_ do something like that again." Eames cried, holding Arthur like a lifeline.

Arthur wrapped his own arms around Eames, returning the hug. "I won't, I won't Eames, I'm sorry." He felt his own tears begin to fall, but made no effort to wipe them away. "Fuck, Eames, I never wanted you to see that, please forgive me."

Oblivious to the rest of the team, Arthur and Eames stayed locked in each other's arms, each one unwilling to be the first to break away. Emotions and heartbreak surrounded the air around them, their importance to each other a new discovery to both. When their tears dried out, and they could draw no more comfort from the contact, they withdrew slightly, and Arthur brushed his lips against Eames' uncertainly.

A hesitant smile crooked up on the corner of Eames' lips, but he didn't speak, just pulled Arthur to his feet. They shook hands with Faydon and Clint, and Eames' clapped the other forger on the shoulder, ensuring Clint knew that it wasn't his fault.

"I better get a good fucking tip for my services." Eames grinned at Faydon, before he and Arthur left, together.

After they left the small house in Minsk, Arthur and Eames never again mentioned what had happened on the Cole case. But they spent the rest of that night in each other's arms, and every night since, both privately thankful that the horror of that job had brought them together in the end.


	3. Gaming

**Day Three: Gaming/Watching A Movie**

**Contains Portal 2 references**

* * *

"Put your portal … there." Arthur used his controller to mark where Eames should put his portal.

Eames frowned. "No, that won't work, because I need to travel through the excursion funnel. You need to put yours on that wall so I can travel through it."

Arthur calculated Eames' suggestion and dismissed it immediately. "No, the emancipation grill will trap me over here and then you'll have to come back through. Look, put your portal on the floor, and I'll jump here, and it should propel me over."

Eames shook his head stubbornly. "Darling, I'm telling you it won't work."

"Fucking hell!" Arthur snapped, smoothing his hair back. "I'm point man for a reason Eames, this is my speciality!"

"And I've played this game before!" Eames argued. "And actually completed it, so maybe in this one instance you could admit that I'm slightly more qualified than you? If your ego can handle it that is."

Arthur spun around, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "_My_ ego? When you could clearly just admit you're wrong now, and save me the hassle of handing you your ass. You just don't like the idea that I could be better at a game than you!"

Eames scowled, angrily. "As if that would ever be possible, you've got a stick so far up your arse, I could use you as a fucking joystick, _darling_."

Arthur dropped the controller and went for his gun, and Eames did the same, resulting in a stalemate, with both of them pointing their guns at the other, breathing heavily.

"Oh, _for_… put your guns away, will you? If Cobb sees you, he'll confiscate the PlayStation." Ariadne rolled her eyes, exasperatedly. "This is the third time this week this level has resulted in you two almost kneecapping each other. Eames, put your portal _there_ and _there_. Arthur, go through the excursion funnel, and both of you shut up! Some of us are trying to get some work done."

Arthur and Eames glanced at the screen, stowing away their guns. Immediately, they both realised that Ariadne's solution was right and had been staring them in the face the whole time.

"That's why I said in the first place." Eames grumbled.

Arthur growled. "No, you fucking didn't. God, Eames, you're so full of yourself."

Eames laughed, sarcastically. "Right, darling, because you're the epitome of modesty."

Arthur lost his temper and drew his gun again, blinded by his rage, but someone else shot first. The sound echoed around the warehouse, and Arthur and Eames froze in horror, turning to look at the remains of their destroyed console.

Wheeling around, they saw Dom holding his Beretta, glaring at the pair of them. "Until you can learn to co-operate without disrupting the rest of the team, no PlayStation."

"Dude, that is _not_ cool." Arthur told him, unimpressed.

Eames knelt in front of the smoking console, mourning the loss. "Cobb, you absolute bloody buggering _bastard_, that's my brother's fucking PlayStation."

"My heart bleeds." Cobb said dryly. "Buy him a new one with your share of this job, you know, the job that I'm expecting to go perfectly since you two have nothing better to do than threaten to kneecap each other over a simple strategy game."

Eames scoffed. "My forgery is infallible, as always. I could fool Arthur into believing I was his own mother."

Arthur snorted in disbelief. "Sure. You can't even fool yourself into having half a brain."

"I'm getting really tired of your shit, Arthur, don't push me." The forger warned, dangerously.

Arthur raised his eyebrow. "What are you going to do, shoot me?"

Eames reached for his gun and Cobb moved in front of Arthur, beginning to lose his temper.

"That's it!" He snapped. "I'm sending you both home for the day to cool off. If you two haven't sorted out your differences by tomorrow morning, don't bother coming in, there are plenty of other forgers and point men. Now get the fuck out my warehouse and sort yourselves out!"

He all but shoved them out of the doors, slamming them shut behind them.

"It's your fault." Arthur muttered, sullenly.

Eames glared at him. "How the fuck is this my fault? You know, sometimes you …" He trailed off and sighed. "Do you ever get sick of fighting, Arthur?"

Surprised, Arthur let his tense posture relax. "Yes. We make a good team, we shouldn't need to fight with each other." He paused. "I have an Xbox in my room with Portal 2, if you're interested?"

Eames smiled, a crooked grin that lit up his entire face. "Only if I can be Atlas. Those kung fu moves are just so me, you know?"

Arthur smiled. "Deal."

If they were forced to flee their hotel after several gunshots peppered the walls and the hotel manager called the police, well who was to know?


	4. On A Date

**Day Four: On A Date**

* * *

"So what do you say, darling? Will you have dinner with me?" Eames grinned, cheekily. "It would be a shame to let the reservation go to waste."

Arthur considered for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay. Pick me up at seven sharp. Don't be late. And wear a nice shirt, Mr Eames." Arthur allowed himself a small smile, before turning on his heel and gracefully exiting the warehouse.

Eames left himself, intent on finding a shirt that was tasteful and plain, something that would impress Arthur. The date had a better chance of going well if Arthur didn't immediately have his back up over a fluorescent shirt.

The first thing he did when he arrived home was find said shirt. The nicest one he owned was a pale grey, which went nicely with a black tie he owned. Eames hurriedly showered and changed, smoothing down his hair. Once he'd decided that he wouldn't look out of place next to Arthur, Eames left. The traffic was horrendous, and Eames cursed. The point made had told him specifically to not be late.

He arrived at five minutes past seven, and as he buzzed up to Arthur's apartment, Eames kept his fingers crossed that the point man would even let him in. He was in luck.

"You're late." Arthur told him, unimpressed.

Eames looked apologetic. "I know, I'm sorry, the traffic was abysmal on the way here. We might need to take an alternate route into town." He explained

Arthur nodded, appeased, and they headed out to the car. At the restaurant, they met their first hitch.

"What do you mean, I don't have a reservation?" Eames repeated, heatedly. "I only made one this morning!"

The maître d' looked close to tears as he searched the list again. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, I can see a note where we were meant to allocate you a table, but it just hasn't been done. If you'll give me one moment, I'll see if we have a free table."

He scurried away, leaving Eames furious. Arthur laid a hand on his arm.

"Take it easy, Eames. It's not his fault. There are plenty of other restaurants around here." Arthur said softly.

Eames relaxed at Arthur's touch, and when the maître d' came back, he apologised for his momentary anger and even managed to smile when he was told there was a free table for them. When they were seated and had been handed the wine menu, Eames grinned at Arthur sheepishly, admitting that he wasn't much of a wine connoisseur and would Arthur mind choosing something?

Arthur smiled, inclining his head genuinely and ordered something that meant nothing to Eames. The bottle was brought to them properly, and Arthur swirled and sipped it, nodding to the sommelier, who filled their glasses. Eames, who didn't really enjoy wine and only drank it on special occasions, took a hesitant sip, and was pleasantly surprised. It must have shown on his face, because Arthur laughed.

"I knew you weren't fond of wine, and I thought this particular vintage might be something you enjoy." He told Eames, who set his glass down, doe-eyed.

He'd been fond of Arthur for a long time, and appreciated his wit, his cutting tongue, his perfectly pressed suits and his loyalty, among other things.. What he hadn't expected was his consideration and how gentle he seemed. He told Arthur so.

"You're just not used to it because you only ever see me when I'm working." He explained, perusing the menu. "I'm a perfectionist, and I can be tightly wound on the job."

Eames smiled. "Believe me, dar…Arthur, I know that." He corrected himself.

Arthur lifted his eyes from the menu, smiling. "Eames, I'm not going to walk out just because you call me darling. Relax."

Not sure what to say to that, and thrilled with how well they were connected, Eames glanced down at his menu. A waitress came to take their order, and since they'd ordered a white wine, Eames ordered the mushrooms, followed by the bass. Arthur opted for the mushrooms and the sole.

Arthur smiled. "I thought the bass sounded delicious, but it came with mussels and I'm deathly allergic to shellfish." He explained. "I have to carry an Epi-Pen with me at all times."

Eames cocked his head. He hadn't known that. Commotion behind him drew both their attention and they could see one of the waitresses was having a slight issue with an inebriated guest. The guest stomped away, knocking into their table and sending both glasses of wine soaring into both of their laps. Unimpressed, Eames got to his feet, reaching for his Sig Sauer, but a slight shake of the head from Arthur stopped him.

"I'd watch where you're going, mate, or you might find yourself in trouble." Eames kept his tone light, but his words were challenging.

The drunk turned around and scoffed. "I don't care about threats from a couple of fags."

Arthur, who had been dabbing himself with a napkin, rose at the insult, his eyes narrowed furiously. Eames had only seen that look once, and he still bore the scar.

"You have two options. You can walk out of here now, and that will be the end of it. Your second option is for my date to carry you out piece by piece after I rip you apart. Which is it?" Arthur spoke quietly, a sure sign of his rage. This was why Arthur was infallible in their line of work. He could easily change from mild-mannered Arthur Levine, an excellent dining companion and a loyal friend, to Arthur the point man, who nobody wanted to fuck with.

The drunk took one look at Arthur, who was emitting fury from his every pore, and scuttled out of the restaurant, clearly terrified that Arthur would make good on his threat.

Arthur sat back down, calmly, and handed a napkin over to Eames, who dabbed at his own trousers from where the wine had spilt.

"Darling," He said, awestruck. "Marry me?"

Arthur's lips twitched. "Let's see how this date goes first." He smiled.

The waitress who had been receiving abuse from the drunken patron hurried over to them, another bottle of wine in her hands. "Compliments of the house." She smiled, uncorking it and allowing Arthur to run through the same tests as earlier. "Your starters will be here momentarily."

They were, and they were delicious. Eames was glad he'd picked this restaurant, even aside from all of the trouble they'd had thus far. The conversation flowed easily, Arthur shyly told Eames about how he'd gotten into dreamsharing in the first place, about how Dom was like a brother to him, and beautiful, radiant Mal had been like his sister.

Their mains arrived, and Arthur thanked the waitress without tearing his eyes away from Eames. He picked up his cutlery and cut into the fish. Eames, about to take a bite of his own main, glanced down at Arthur's plate and frowned.

"Don't eat that!" He cried, leaning across the table to knock the fork out of Arthur's hand just as he was about to take a bite. Arthur glanced down and his face whitened.

"They mixed up the plates." He noticed. "Mussels."

Eames swapped their plates, but neither of them felt like eating, unwilling to risk a trip to the emergency room. When their waitress came past, Arthur pointed out the mistake, and asked for the check.

Horrified, the waitress fetched her manager who offered them the meal on the house. Arthur shook his head. "Thank you, but we'll pay anyway. It was an unfortunate mistake, and you've had a hectic night."

Arthur tried to hand over his card, but Eames shook his head. "My date, so I pay."

He smiled, but it wasn't convincing. This had been the worst date he'd ever been on, and yet it was the only one that he'd prayed would go well. He'd eventually convinced Arthur to have dinner with him, and it had been a complete disaster.

The ride home was quiet, uncomfortable. He pulled up outside Arthur's apartment, relieved that he could just go home and drown his sorrow. Arthur moved to get out of the car and paused.

"Believe it or not, I had a nice time tonight." Arthur told him. Eames looked at him, disbelief written all over face.

"I'm not saying it was the best date I've ever had." Arthur shrugged honestly. "But it was far from the worst."

Eames smiled, softly. "I'd like to see you again. Outside of work, I mean. Even though tonight was complete chaos."

Arthur smiled back, mischievously. "It's not over yet." He leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Eames' lips. "Coffee?"

Eames was sorely tempted, but he wanted to do this properly with Arthur. He didn't want this to just be a one night thing. Arthur was too important.

"Better not." He said, wistfully. "Next time, I promise. I'll see you in the morning, darling." He pressed another kiss to Arthur's lips, and gently pushed him towards the car door. Arthur got out of the car and nodded goodnight, disappearing into his apartment.

Eames drove home, a huge smile on his face.


	5. Kissing

**Day Five: Kissing**

* * *

"Mr Eames, how many times do I need to ask you to pay attention?" Arthur asked, dryly.

Eames grinned up at him. "At least once more, darling."

"Arthur." The point man corrected, curtly.

"Eames." The other man smirked, knowing he was rattling Arthur's cage. He knew exactly what Arthur had been talking about, contrary to the impression he gave, Eames was always aware of what went on around him. It was just his way of blending in, was part of what made him an excellent forger. To seem like he was unaware of his surroundings, but in actuality knew everything. Without looking up he knew that Ariadne was resting her chin in her palms, giving Arthur her full attention, that Dom was giving him a stern glare over the top of his notebook, among other things.

"Meeting over." Arthur snapped, his cage well and truly rattled as he stalked over to his desk. Eames observed Arthur as he angrily sat down, burying his head in his moleskine.

Sighing at the disapproving looks of the others, Eames walked over to Arthur, wheeling a chair next to him. Dropping into the seat, he waited for Arthur to look up, which he did almost immediately, a scowl marring the usually attractive face.

"Sam Kennedy will be in his mistress' apartment at seven thirty exactly, she's already on board so we'll have no issues getting in once he's asleep. Once under, Yusuf is the dreamer for the first layer, which is a hospital. You're the dreamer for the second, which is Kennedy's bedroom. I need to impersonate his wife and confront him about his plot to kill her. While I'm doing that, you and Cobb sneak into his study, bypassing the alarms and open the safe, which should hopefully contain what we want to know. We don't need a kick, because it's two levels with no sedation, so when I finish the job I shoot myself out and give you a kick from above." Eames spoke in a low voice, leaning quite close to Arthur, ensuring he could hear every word.

Rising suddenly so that Arthur jumped, Eames smirked down at the point man. "Just because I don't look like I'm paying attention, _Arthur_, doesn't mean I'm not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some recon to do."

Eames hooked himself up to the PASIV, purposely ignoring Arthur. Winking over at Ariadne, he hit the infusion trigger, putting himself under.

He blinked and found himself in his usual dressing room, with pictures of his forgery stuck next to the mirror. Eames examined it for a few moments and then looked into the mirror, blinking just once before he found himself staring back at a reflection that was not his own. He relaxed his stance instantly, adopting a more feminine pose. He'd had plenty of opportunity to study Janet Kennedy and knew her posture, her looks, her mannerisms. The last thing he had to work on was her voice.

"She's beautiful." Arthur spoke quietly from behind him. Eames froze, actually taken by surprise. Generally when he was practicing, the team left him to it. He hadn't expected Arthur to follow him down.

"Yes." Eames said simply. "A very elegant woman." The accent that came out was not his own. He stood watching Arthur, waiting.

When Arthur didn't move or speak, Eames turned away, looking back in the mirror. "What do you want, Arthur? You of all people preach the necessity of perfection, yet here you are, interrupting my attempt to achieve it." Halfway through the feminine voice changed back to his own deep, accented voice.

He glanced back when Arthur didn't immediately respond, and the point man stepped forward. "Drop the forgery." Arthur ordered softly.

His breath caught in his throat, Eames did exactly what he was told. Arthur was standing very close, almost too close in fact, if Eames had ever thought there was such a thing.

"Arthur…" He said hoarsely.

Arthur ignored him. "You know, every time I think I have you pinned down, Eames, you always manage to surprise me."

He grew closer, their faces only a few inches apart. Eames swallowed, terrified to move closer in case it shattered the moment between them and Arthur moved away.

"I aim to please." He replied instead, wetting his lips with his tongue, watching Arthur's eyes follow the movement.

Arthur moved forward, closing the gap between them, and Eames' eyes fluttered shut as Arthur firmly pressed their lips together. Unsure of whether or not to move, Eames stayed shock still until Arthur withdrew.

"Well," Eames began slowly. "It seems like I'm not to only one with the ability to surprise."

Arthur smiled and stepped back, his Glock materialising in his hand. He raised it to his head in a practiced movement, pausing just to say one more thing before he pulled the trigger.

"See you topside, Mr Eames."


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Day Six: Wearing Each Other's Clothes**

* * *

Eames' eyes flickered open, slowly. He felt fully rested for the first time in a long time; it was what came of spending a night in his own apartment, rather than awful hotel rooms. He suspected, also, that the warmth and comfort of having Arthur next to him, their limbs entwined, might have contributed to the restful sleep.

But Arthur wasn't in bed. Throwing back the covers, Eames slipped out of bed, pausing only to pull on his underwear. Bare feet slapping against the floor, Eames headed downstairs to find out where Arthur had disappeared to. He pushed open the door and paused in surprise.

Arthur, his back to Eames, was humming merrily as he flipped pancakes with a deft flick of his wrist. Eames blinked as he realised Arthur was wearing his orange paisley shirt. The shirt that Eames had worn only yesterday, that Arthur had desperately ripped off him with murmurs and groans about its lack of aesthetic appeal.

Well. That was the polite way of putting it. What he'd actually said was that it was 'fuck ugly'. But amidst kisses and biting and nibbling, Eames hadn't had it in him to be offended.

Yet here Arthur was; sashaying around in the very shirt that he'd insulted. Eames folded his arms, leaning against the door frame, staring unashamedly at the hem of his shirt, where the swell of Arthur's rear was just visible. Arthur hadn't noticed him, humming along to the radio and flipping pancakes.

It wasn't until he turned to reach for a plate that Arthur noticed Eames in the doorway.

"Oh. Good morning." He blushed slightly, heading over to give his lover a brief kiss. "I made pancakes."

Eames smiled at him, returning the kiss. "I noticed. I also noticed that orange is most definitely not your colour, darling."

Arthur's blush deepened as he looked down at the shirt. "Oh. It was the first thing I grabbed this morning, and … it smells like you."

Eames wrapped his strong, tattooed arms around Arthur. "Well, I can't say that the sight of you in my shirt isn't highly tempting, darling, but considering we have to be at work in an hour, I suppose I'll have to wait to take advantage of you."

Arthur returned the embrace, lightly dropping a kiss onto his lover's mouth. "I can hardly wait. Tea or coffee?" He asked

Eames didn't even need to think about it. "Coffee. The piss you consider tea is an abomination to my refined palate."

Arthur laughed and poured Eames a cup of coffee, adding a splash of milk and a single teaspoon of sugar, knowing just how Eames like it. They'd been together long enough. They shared this apartment when they weren't on jobs, although neither of them returned without the other, and they never worked from home.

This time was different. Unwilling to keep their relationship a secret any longer, and since the job was in New York, they both agreed it would be pointless to live separately in hotels, when they could just commute from their apartment. Although they hadn't actually gone out of their way to tell the team they were together. They just made no attempts to hide it, arriving together, leaving together. It wasn't their fault that Ariadne and Cobb assumed they were carpooling.

After breakfast, which was the most delicious thing Eames had ever eaten, they showered (individually, much to Eames' disappointment), and dressed.

"Arthur, darling, have you seen my green tie?"

Arthur stuck his head out of the bathroom, spotting Eames' violet shirt and groaned. "Eames, seriously, just for once, would it kill you to wear colours that match?"

Eames opened his mouth to retort, but paused. "Alright." He agreed. "I'll wear the white shirt, and you can pick out a tie for me."

The point man blinked. "What's the catch?" He asked, suspiciously.

Looking entirely too wounded to be believable, Eames met Arthur's gaze. Snorting, Arthur returned to slicking his hair back, ignoring his lover's insistence that he had no ulterior motive. When he emerged, Eames was indeed wearing his white shirt, and was waiting expectantly for Arthur to choose a tie for him.

Arthur moved past to the drawer filled with Eames' ties and turned his nose up in disgust. He span to glare at Eames just in time to catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"You asked me to pick just because you knew I'd hate all of them." Arthur accused.

Eames inclined his head, grinning. "Of course. You know, you could always let me wear one of yours?" He joked, throwing on his jacket. He turned back when he felt hands on his collar, and watched Arthur knot a silver tie around his neck, deftly. The tie Arthur had been wearing himself moments ago.

Eames watched in surprise as Arthur's smoothed down the tie, before returning to his own drawer to pick out a different tie, choosing a black one with a silver pattern. He didn't offer to help Arthur with it, knowing the point man preferred to do it himself.

Stopping only to pick up the car keys, they left for work. It didn't surprise either of them that Cobb was already at the warehouse. The guy worked ridiculously long days; the sooner the job was done, the sooner he could get back to his kids. Not that anyone could blame him, after being forced to stay away from them for so long.

In the warehouse, Arthur and Eames separated, going about their own business until Ariadne and Yusuf got in, and then they would go over the plan. They didn't wait too long, Yusuf arrived just after they did and Ariadne stumbled into the warehouse ten minutes later, yawning and clutching a tall Starbucks cup, presumably filled to the brim with coffee. She took a huge gulp and collapsed into her seat.

"These early mornings are killing me." She yawned. "Hey, Eames, are you …." She trailed off, jaw dropping.

"Oh my god. Since when?" She demanded. At everyone's nonplussed look, she gestured between Arthur and Eames' frowning. "You. How long have you two been together?"

Arthur's eyes widened fractionally, but Eames was the only one who noticed.

"About … ten years, on and off?" Eames estimated, looking to Arthur for confirmation.

"Eleven years, five months." He corrected. "How did you know?" The last part was directed at Ariadne, who took another large gulp of her coffee before answering.

She glanced at the floor, mumbling. "He's wearing your tie."

Eames grinned at her, realising that she was thinking about the time Arthur had kissed her. He felt a little sorry for her. He and Arthur had gone through a bad patch then, and it hadn't seemed like they would recover their relationship. "Very astute, Ariadne."

She smiled up at him, blushing, but it turned to a scowl when he added, "But the real question, of course, is how you're familiar with Arthur's ties?"

Hey, but that didn't mean he couldn't stake his claim. Arthur was his, always had been, and if Eames had anything to do with it, always would be.

Ariadne scowled at him, flushing angrily. "I was with him when he bought it." She snapped, and Eames could feel Arthur glaring at him. He winked at Ariadne, and strolled over to the PASIV device, pausing to offer an entirely unapologetic smile at Arthur, who pursed his lips.

"Coming under with me, darling?" Eames offered, laying back on the deckchair and hooking up to the PASIV.

Arthur inclined his head stiffly, and sat down on the chair next to Eames. The forger inwardly grinned. Arthur could pretend to be angry as long as he wanted, but Eames knew he'd already been forgiven.


	7. Scary Movie

**Day Seven: Scary Movie**

* * *

"A scary movie?" Arthur repeated, in disbelief. "Eames, neither of us even _like_ scary movies."

Eames shrugged. "I know that, darling. I just thought this one looked half-decent."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. On more than one occasion, Eames had expressed his sheer distaste for the horror genre more than once. On the other hand, that wasn't to say one film couldn't capture his attention. Arthur reached for his laptop, typing quickly as he drew up the plot synopsis for the movie. He grudgingly admitted it didn't sound terrible, but it wasn't something that he would choose to watch. He hadn't thought it was something Eames would be terribly interested in either.

But it made little difference. If Eames wanted to see it, Arthur would go with him.

"Alright." He conceded. "I'll book two tickets for tonight then."

It was worth the pain of putting up with a horror movie just to see the look of absolute delight that radiated from Eames' face. Arthur reflected that he should make an effort to please Eames a little more often, if only to see him smile like that. The forger grinned and smirked his way around the warehouse, but his genuine crooked smile, something he seemed to reserve only for Arthur, was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen.

Although, there was the slight issue that Arthur's disenchantment with the horror genre mainly stemmed from the fact that he was terrified of it. No exaggeration. The few times he'd been forced to ensure a scary movie, he'd let out a positively emasculating squeak, and had hidden behind a pillow or cushion, or generally whatever was in reach. It was laughable. Arthur the Point Man, who could shoot down a dozen men in less than ten seconds, was scared by costumes, make-up and special effects.

It was patently obvious to Arthur that he was going to make a fool of himself. But if it made Eames happy, it would be worth the ridicule that would inevitably follow.

So when they finished in the warehouse for the day, Arthur had fully accepted that he was going to embarrass himself, and was prepared to face the sniggers he would no doubt receive from the team the next day.

At the movie theatre, Arthur went to pick up the tickets he'd booked earlier, while Eames disappeared, presumably for snacks. He returned, his arms laden with soda and popcorn. Arthur rolled his eyes at the sheer amount of food, but didn't say anything. They entered the screen and found their seats just as the trailers started.

The movie started as horror movies always did: dark and creepy, with eerie music. Arthur was on edge from the first note, sitting stiffly in his chair, with his fingers biting into the arm of his seat.

"Hey, relax." Eames told him, although there was underlying tension in his voice. "It's barely started yet."

Arthur glared. Someone in the theatre shushed them and they turned back to the screen awkwardly. Eames reached over and took Arthur's hand, lacing their fingers together. Arthur took comfort from the contact, although he was still on edge.

For all the plot had made the film sound interesting, ten minutes into the movie, Arthur reflected that it was exactly the same cheesy, predictable shit that he generally refused to watch. It was full of cheap frights and spooky music, and silent tension. But that didn't mean it wasn't terrifying. He'd squeezed Eames' hand so hard at one point that he was surprised it wasn't broken.

Although, it appeared that Eames was having the same difficulty staying calm that Arthur was. There was a light layer of sheen adorning the forger's forehead, and his shoulders were stiff with tension. Arthur squeezed Eames' hand lightly to draw his attention.

"Are you okay?" He mouthed.

Eames nodded once, uncertainly. "I don't really care for horror films." He admitted.

Arthur frowned. "Then why did you suggest we watch this?" He hissed, quietly.

"Because I thought I could manage, and it would be cute if I could cuddle you when you got scared." Eames admitted, looking embarrassed. "Clearly it backfired."

Arthur nodded, realising Eames' motives were kind of sweet, and turned his attention back to the screen, jumping when a corpse suddenly appeared on screen, biting back a squeak of fright.

"How about we get out of here, forget the movie and I take you for dinner?" Eames murmured in Arthur's ear, shakily.

"Oh, thank God." Arthur gasped in relief, getting to his feet and tugging Eames up. They quickly left the theatre, only relaxing when they were outside in the fresh air, far away from flesh-eating corpses.

They grinned at each other, each of them ashamed of his reaction to the movie.

"Next time you have any bright ideas, remind me to talk you out of them." Arthur laughed, breathlessly.

Eames blushed and ducked his head. Arthur felt guilty and stepped forward, giving Eames a chaste kiss.

"You mentioned dinner?" He asked.

Eames grinned. "Of course. Anywhere you like. Lead the way, darling."

* * *

**In the original 30 Day OTP Challenge, this prompt would have been 'cosplaying', but I just can't see any of my OTP's cosplaying, so this, and others have been changed.**


	8. Shopping

**Day Eight: Shopping**

* * *

"Right then. I've got the shopping list here." Eames grinned. "Why don't you get a basket, darling?"

Arthur nodded, slightly irritated with his partner. They were only doing a quick run to the store for basic supplies. He had intended to come himself, but Eames had insisted on tagging along. Apparently, Arthur would forget the 'necessities', although the point man secretly believed he and Eames had very different ideas on what was considered a necessity.

Begrudgingly, Arthur grabbed the requested basket before returning to his lover's side, grumbling about how he was perfectly capable of picking up groceries on his own.

"Ah, darling, I'm wounded." Eames told him, solemnly. "Anyone would think you were ashamed to be seen with me."

Arthur blinked, and opened his mouth to explain that that was _not_, in fact, the case, when he saw the glint in Eames' eyes. Pursing his lips, he summoned his best glare. Unperturbed, Eames gestured for Arthur to lead the way. Arthur stomped down the aisle, ahead of Eames, who followed at a leisurely pace, strolling casually. Gritting his teeth, Arthur waited for him to catch up.

"I think I might bake a cake." Eames said conversationally, when he was right next to Arthur. "What do you think, darling?"

The point man opened his mouth to say something rude, but paused. Insulting Eames would mean the forger wouldn't make the aforementioned cake. And Arthur did have a soft spot for Eames' cooking, particularly his desserts. Arthur had a secret sweet tooth.

"Yeah. Sounds good. What do we need?" Arthur cleared his throat.

Eames hummed. "I think we've got everything for the actual cake at home. We just need things for the filling and perhaps decoration. I think strawberries sound good."

He wandered ahead, only stopping to grab something on the list and drop it in the basket Arthur was clutching. Appeased with the prospect of a cake and secretly enjoying the domesticity of shopping together, the point man let himself relax, his earlier irritability melting away. He hummed to himself as he walked around the supermarket, feeling at ease.

Eames strolled beside him, pausing when they reached the fresh fruit and vegetables. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face. He let the corners of his mouth curl up slightly as he picked up a carton of fresh strawberries.

"These will work beautifully for the cake, darling, don't you think?" He slid them into the basket. "We'll need some whipped cream too."

Arthur nodded, absent-mindedly, heading for the fridge that contained the whipped cream. He picked up a spray can of the requested item and gestured at his lover to catch his attention.

"Will one be enough?" Arthur asked. Eames smiled and nodded.

Turning to slide the can into his now-full basket, Arthur caught a disapproving glare from a woman who scurried past, giving him a wide berth. He gritted his teeth, but kept his anger under control, reminding himself that not everyone was accepting of homosexuality. He needed to focus on distracting Eames: the forger was less forgiving of people who were intolerant. He spun around, plastering a smile on his face, but one glance at Eames' set jaw told Arthur that the woman's glower hadn't gone unnoticed by the forger either.

Sighing, the point man peered over at the list in Eames' hands. They were done, thankfully. Arthur headed to the checkout, unloading their items. He turned to speak to Eames, but the forger was nowhere in sight. Frowning, and hoping that Eames' hadn't done something foolish like confront the judgemental customer, he kept emptying the basket. When a presence appeared behind him, Arthur instinctively recognised it was Eames.

"Where did you disappear to?" Arthur asked, suspiciously.

Eames grinned at him. "Just to pick up some things we forgot. He produced another can of whipped cream, a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. Arthur flushed as the cashier eyed the items with a knowing look.

"_Eames_!" Arthur hissed. "I thought you said that one can would be enough for the cake?"

Eames waved him off airily. "Of course it will. This one is entirely for our own purpose, darling." He winked saucily. Arthur's blush grew more pronounced as the cashier sniggered.

"Bite me." Arthur growled at his lover, trying to minimise his embarrassment by lashing out.

"Oh, _darling_," The forger gasped, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone around them. "You _are _feeling adventurous. Perhaps I better get more cream…"

Arthur wheeled around and grabbed Eames' arm before he could disappear to do just that, his pale fingers biting into the forger's wrist.

"Eames, so help me, if you say one thing, just one more thing to embarrass me, you'll be on the sofa for a month." His tone was acidic, but his volume was low. He wasn't joking.

The forger met Arthur's gaze steadily as the point man relaxed his grip, letting go of Eames' arm.

"Embarrassing you was not my intention, darling, I promise. I needed to make a point, that I love you, and that I love having sex with you, and I'm not ashamed of that. Now you may feel the need to pander to dirty looks and glares from people who don't approve of us, but I feel no such obligation." Eames' eyes fixed on the customer who had hurried past them earlier, who flinched and stared at the floor. "Now, if you would be so kind as to let us pay for these items, we'll be on our way." He directed at the cashier, who grinned, and started scanning their shopping.

Arthur stared at his lover in surprise, as Eames bagged their groceries. "I'll be back in a minute." He murmured, disappearing back into the store.

He returned a few minutes later, wearing a small smile as he placed a final item on the conveyor belt. Eames glanced up and his eyes widened as he noticed the third bottle of whipped cream that Arthur had just picked up. He met Arthur's gaze and a triumphant grin played on his lips. Arthur simply pretended not to notice, instead handing over his card as he desperately tried to repress his own smirk.


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

**Day Nine: Hanging Out With Friends**

* * *

"Bowling?" Cobb repeated; his tone filled with confusion, as if Eames had suggested something unheard of.

"Bowling." Eames repeated firmly. "We've all been working together for a long time now, Cobb, for once we should take the night off and socialise as friends."

Cobb scratched his head, desperately searching for a way to get out of it, but could find none. "I don't think this is a good idea, but if everyone wants to." He shrugged.

"_Excellent_." Eames said airily. "I'll let the team know."

To Cobb's dismay, everyone seemed to think the idea was a good one. They arranged to meet at a bowling alley Eames had discovered only a few blocks away from the warehouse later that evening. Cobb arrived first, fidgeting as he waited for the others to arrive. It seemed he was the only one who could see the evening turning into a brawl. Even Saito had consented to come along. Cobb tensed as he waited for the others. They were all ridiculously competitive. This didn't bode well.

Ariadne and Saito arrived next, together. It appeared Saito had driven past Ariadne, who'd been waiting for the bus, and had offered her a ride, ever the gentleman. They didn't have long to wait before Arthur and Eames turned up, also together, but that was nothing new. They'd been together for a few months now and shared accommodation whenever they were on jobs.

"Yusuf not here yet?" Eames frowned.

Ariadne shook her head, shivering. "Not yet. It's so cold."

Arthur frowned at her, sympathetically. "Come on, let's go in. Yusuf can find us inside."

"Here he is now." Cobb gestured down the street at Yusuf's van pulled up with a loud screech of the brakes. Each of them winced, thankful that they would never have to deal with Yusuf's erratic driving again.

"Sorry, sorry. Police were doing car searches so I had to take a different route." He explained. Nobody questioned it. Yusuf was a chemist, and probably had around thirty illegal substances on him at all times. It was better not to know these things.

Since everyone was there, they entered the bowling alley, Eames heading up to pay for two games. He didn't mind footing the bill. It had been his idea, and it was pocket change after all, considering the pay he received after every job.

"Okay, Arthur, want to set us up?" Eames rubbed his hands together, gleefully.

Arthur nodded and quickly typed in everyone's names, going alphabetical so there could be no squabbling. When he was done, he nodded at Ariadne for her to take her turn.

She selected her bowling ball carefully, weighing it in her hands, before studying the lane. The others watched her in confusion as Ariadne made no move to bowl.

"Uh, Ariadne? You're meant to bowl and try and knock the pins over?" Cobb spoke up, hesitantly.

She turned to face him, rolling her eyes. "I know. I'm trying to work out the best trajectory to bounce the ball off the sides and get a strike, but it depends on the weight of the ball and the power behind my throw…" She trailed off.

"Isn't that cheating?" Eames grinned.

Ariadne fixed him with an amused stare. "No more so than the syringe Yusuf just emptied into everyone's drink." She grinned.

Everyone turned on Yusuf, accusingly, and he raised his hands in defeat. "Hey, it was nothing harmful, just something that would affect your co-ordination, that's all. I like to win, sue me."

"Well, if cheating's fair game, by all means." Eames grinned, rubbing his hands together in excitement. Ariadne finished her calculations and took her throw, getting a strike first time. She grinned triumphantly.

When it came to Arthur's turn, Eames waited until the last second before Arthur bowled before diving up and cupping his ass through his trousers. In shock, Arthur fumbled his shot, getting an instant gutter ball. He turned on Eames instantly, his eyes narrowing in fury.

Eames waved off Arthur's obvious anger and sat down, allowing Arthur to take his next turn. Without the interference, he got a strike, but before Cobb could get up to take his turn, Arthur returned to the screen, typing rapidly. The team watched as his first score changed from zero to a strike. Before anyone could protest at Arthur hacking into the machine, he edited Eames' name so that it read 'Fitzwilliam'. Ariadne started cackling and Yusuf howled with laughter. Eames blushed furiously.

"My name is _not_ Fitzwilliam." He snapped at Arthur, who raised an eyebrow.

"No." Arthur agreed. "But it _is_ your middle name."

Eames glared at him, sullenly. "You promised you'd never use that against me."

Arthur shrugged and allowed Dom to take his turn, who did so apprehensively. Thankfully, none of the team bothered him, all of them seemingly too preoccupied with listening to Saito's phone call. He hung up, triumphantly turning to the screen to check the scores. The rest of the team turned to do the same, curiously, and gaped. All of their scores had been reset to zero, with the exception of Saito, who'd gotten all strikes. They turned back to him accusingly.

"I bought the bowling alley. It seemed…neater." He shrugged, giving no more explanation.

Eames recovered first. "Well, since I seem to have wasted seventy dollars, and Saito infinitely more than that on a bowling alley he'll never use again, how about we hit the nearest pub? I could do with a beer."

"Seconded." Ariadne and Yusuf spoke up. Arthur nodded and Saito looked as uninterested as ever, but raised no objections. Dom just buried his head in his hands and wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

As they left the bowling alley, Arthur discreetly slipped his arm around Eames. "You're not too mad at me for giving them your middle name, are you, Eames?"

Eames chuckled. "Of course not, darling. But you should promise to restrain yourself from shooting me later?"

Arthur was immediately suspicious. "Why?"

Eames grinned and slipped out from under Arthur's arm. "Well, darling, such a slight on your part can't possibly go unpunished … I e-mailed them all copies of your original passport."

He took off running as Arthur, who was blushing madly, gave chase, reaching for his Glock.

* * *

**Please review, darlings! XD**


	10. On Holiday

**Day Ten: On Holiday**

* * *

Eames made his way down the beach, a cocktail in each hand, to where Arthur was sitting with the towels, his bare skin bronzing beneath the scorching sun.

"Here you are, darling." He grinned, handing Arthur the fruity drink.

Arthur raised his eyebrow pointedly. "A cocktail. With an umbrella. Eames, could you _be_ any more cliché?" His tone was amused.

"This is the first holiday I've ever been able to convince you to take with me, Arthur, I intend to make it as cliché as possible." Eames smirked, unabashedly. "I also fully intend to get you singing karaoke before the week is out, I warn you."

Arthur laughed, shaking his head and taking a sip of his drink. It was cool and refreshing, and tasted of berries, exactly what he'd needed. But then, Eames always knew what he needed and that was why Arthur had agreed to the holiday in the first place. Albeit begrudgingly. He'd expected it to be full of tourists and sunburn and uncomfortably hot, but Eames had booked them somewhere quiet, and hot, but not unbearably so. The sunburn had been unavoidable, but when Eames had lovingly rubbed aloe vera into the raw skin, Arthur had decided that it wasn't so bad after all.

"Do we have any plans for this evening?" Arthur asked. As per Eames' request, Arthur left the planning of their activities up to him. He knew Eames was just deciding as he went along, which contributed to the fun.

Eames chewed on his straw thoughtfully. "I thought maybe we could go to that steakhouse you liked the look of. After that, I hadn't planned anything. Was there something you had in mind, darling?"

Arthur shook his head, tilting his head back so the sun could reach his bare torso. "Not really. I just wondered when we'd have to head back to the hotel, that's all."

"Enjoying the sun?" Eames smirked. "I must say it is rather enchanting to see you so relaxed, darling. It's not often you let me see this side of you."

Arthur turned his gaze on Eames, lifting up his sunglasses so his lover could see his amused expression. "You say that like I'm addicted to work, Mr Eames." He teased.

Eames took a sip of his drink. "Well if the waistcoat fits." He muttered, ducking when Arthur threw his t-shirt at him, with a grin.

"I love you." Eames told him, honestly. "I love seeing this side of you, that nobody else gets to see."

Arthur's expression softened and he looked at Eames. "I love you too. Want to go for a swim?"

"Why not?" Eames agreed. "The water should be a nice temperature. Let's go."

Eames had been right; the sea was indeed a decent temperature, neither warm nor cold. It took away the burn of the weather, cooling their skin. Arthur was a strong swimmer and went out a lot further than Eames was willing to, but he returned quickly, preferring to spend the time with his lover than swimming.

They had dinner at the restaurant Eames had mentioned earlier, and the food was delicious. Their conversation flowed, and Arthur laughed and joked without inhibition, smiling at his lover fondly, glad that they'd agreed on this holiday. It was one of Eames' better ideas; there was no doubt about that. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much.

"It's so beautiful here." He commented, on their balcony later that night. "It seems so detached from reality, you know?"

Eames came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Arthur, who leaned back into the touch. "As a forger who spends his life being regularly detached from reality, I can't agree darling. But as a man, I understand exactly what you're trying to say. It'll be a shame to leave." He smiled and pressed a kiss below Arthur's ear.

Arthur closed his eyes, savouring the touch. "I know. I guess it'll be good to get back to work. We can't stay here forever, and after three weeks, I already don't want to leave."

"We can always come back next year." Eames suggested lightly. Arthur bit back a smile, knowing that Eames wanted to stay just as much as he did.

"Yeah. That'd be nice. But let's enjoy our last week." He turned around to press a kiss to his lover's lips. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

They left the balcony doors open as they went to bed, allowing some parts of their detached reality to stay with them as they curled up in each other's arms.

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	11. Drunk

**Day Eleven: Drunk**

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After watching Cobb leave with Miles, Arthur saw Eames standing near the exit, waiting for him. He swallowed, as he registered that Eames was waiting for _him_. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other; Arthur's initial reluctance to hire Eames had been because their split a few years previous hadn't been amicable.

Seeing Eames again hadn't been like Arthur expected. He was expecting tension, curt words, out right screaming matches. In some respects, he was right; they still clashed as much as they used to, and there had been an undercurrent of resigned sadness in his tone when he'd told Arthur his condescension was always appreciated. But it had been all too easy to fall back into their old ways, snide remark and flirting, accompanied by sheer terror when Arthur had thought Eames had been shot.

The part that Arthur remembered most clearly was staying behind on the second layer. He'd joked and smirked, but his words were belied by the way he grasped Eames' fingers just briefly as he hooked him up to the PASIV. The love he'd felt for Eames came back with a rush at that very moment, and Arthur had spent the duration of his time alone on that layer with his heart filled with fear.

He pulled his bag onto the trolley, along with the PASIV, and with a final nod at Ariadne, who was flying back to Paris with Saito's private jet, he set off towards Eames.

They stared at each other for a few moments. "I think this is a conversation best had while under the influence of lots of scotch, don't you?" Eames said at last.

Arthur nodded, relieved. "I couldn't agree more. Bar or hotel room?" He asked.

Eames smiled slightly. "That depends darling. Would you rather be arrested or have to pay for room damages?"

Recognising Eames had a point, that this was likely to escalate towards violence, Arthur inclined his head and gestured for Eames to follow him. Having grown up in Los Angeles, he knew the area quite well, and he took them to the closest hotel. Eames booked a double room, a fact which didn't escape Arthur's notice, and they made their way up to the room. Immediately, Arthur raided the minibar, tossing the tiny bottles of scotch towards Eames and taking the vodka for himself, downing three shots before he could bring himself to look over in Eames' direction.

"What happened? When I missed the kick?" Arthur asked him. It was better to start on a safer topic of conversation before they got round to what they really came here to discuss. He already knew most of it; Ariadne had filled him in.

Eames smiled at him, throwing back his own drink before answering. "Not much." He admitted. "Mal turned up. Killed Fischer. Dom shot her, and he and Ariadne went down to limbo. I stuck around to give them the kick. You timed yours perfectly, darling, can I just say?"

Arthur couldn't help his smile. "My merry chase took a little longer than expected." He admitted.

"Ah well, there was no harm done. We're all alive, and my brain doesn't resemble scrambled eggs, so no hard feelings." Eames shrugged, pouring himself another drink.

They drank in silence for a while, until Arthur felt a little buzzed. He moved across the room, sitting on the other side of the bed to Eames.

"I've missed you." He spoke honestly. "I didn't know how much until I saw you again."

There was no point in lying; they were there to talk, to sort out whatever had transpired between them, to clear the air. Lying would defeat the purpose of being in this awkward situation to begin with.

"And I you." Eames replied, quietly. "But that doesn't change the last two years."

Arthur clenched his jaw. "Cobb is my friend, and so was Mal. You knew her long before I did, Eames, and yet you begrudge my loyalty to her widower?"

"I never stopped you leaving." Eames snapped, angry at the implication.

Arthur laughed, bitterly. "No, you practically held the fucking door open for me. Was that how little our relationship meant to you?"

"No." Eames deflated, getting up from the bed and turning away. "I just wasn't about to turn it into a competition between me and Dom Cobb. It was obvious I wouldn't win."

Silence fell between them. "You… thought I picked him over you?" Arthur asked, surprised.

"The fact that you left doesn't exactly suggest otherwise." Eames pointed out, moving to the minibar. There was only gin and rum left. He tossed the gin to Arthur, not even bothering to rinse his glass as he poured the rum in it.

"I left with every intention of returning." Arthur told him, coldly. "You were the one who told me not to come back."

Eames let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, and if I hadn't? It took him two years to get home, Arthur. You wanted me to put my life on hold for two years and wait for you?"

"I _wanted_ you to come with us!" Arthur shouted, jumping to his feet. "I wanted you to understand that this was something I needed to do! She was our _friend_, and so is Dom."

"What kind of friend has us go under sedated without telling us of the risks?" Eames roared, throwing his glass across the room, watching it shatter up the wall with a grim satisfaction.

Arthur shook his head disgustedly. "One that would do anything to get home to his family, just like I would have done for you. The difference between us, Eames, is if Dom had asked you to run, I would have done _anything_ to fight for our relationship. You just let me leave."

"You would've resented me if I asked you to stay." Eames whispered, moving to stare out of the window. "Far better you leave behind a failed relationship than stay and hate me."

With trembling fingers, Arthur opened the bottle of gin, forgoing the glass and pouring the bottle straight into his mouth, gulping it down, hardly noticing the burn.

"I loved you." Arthur told him, the words that they'd never spoken hanging in the air between them. "I wanted you to come with us, or even ask me to stay. I needed to know you loved me too."

A tear slid down Eames' face and he turned to Arthur. "Of course I loved you." He told him, the words two years too late. "I love you even now, and I've spent the last two years trying to find a home when all the time I knew I belonged with you."

Arthur approached him, slowly. "I never wanted to do this without you." The words were more honest than Arthur had ever been. He took a leap of faith. "I still don't. Come home with me, Eames."

"Always." Eames' voice trembled, and he spun around, crashing his lips to Arthur's desperately. Eames tasted of the strong alcohol they'd both consumed, but the kiss was familiar, filling the emptiness inside Arthur that he hadn't realised was there. In that moment, Arthur knew that he'd found everything he'd been searching for, and that he'd never let Eames go again.

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